


Some Relief For the Restless

by orphan_account



Category: Discworld - Pratchett
Genre: Crossdressing, F/F, Female Characters, Female Protagonist, Ficlet, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Vampires, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-25
Updated: 2008-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In retrospect, this is rather trans-blind. No offense intended. I would write it differently these days.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Some Relief For the Restless

**Author's Note:**

> In retrospect, this is rather trans-blind. No offense intended. I would write it differently these days.

Polly lay restless on another bit of cold hard ground, cleaned of acorns to press into her back, but eager, it seemed, to find new and interesting ways of making her uncomfortable. The warmth of the fire was a comfort, almost lulling, but her mind refused to sleep.

She watched Maladict, listened to the click-click of his coffee machine as he brewed acorn soup as a way of pretending. He had small hands, and Polly kept wondering. Kept imagining. He had a slender waist, as well. She tried imagining his body under the uniform, but her mind recoiled from the thought of male parts and male shape, more so than usual. She looked up at the white face reflecting golden firelight, and let her mind wander downwards with the female shape in mind, and it slipped under the rakish collar, across the white lengths of collarbone, swells of small shadowed breasts brushing up against the coarse cloth of her undershirt. It was at this point Polly realized just where she was going with this - to that place she kept to herself at night, not to be communicated, where girls would undress in half-lit rooms and press themselves to her, virgins with wanton eyes, just like the ones that populated the Genuan booklet she very carefully hid from her father under her bed, the one she'd tossed in the fire before leaving home. She closed her eyes, well aware that she was, basically, in public, and turned away with a sigh.

On the insides of her eyelids, Maladict smiled that infuriating knowing smile and took hold of her wrist with soft cold fingers, placed it in the crotch of her trousers. Her - there was no bulge, no frightening unpleasant bucking thing, just a softness, and a cleft. Warmth began to spread through Polly, the dangerous shivering kind that concentrated between her legs, but she could not stop now. In her imagination, she undid Maladict's trousers, pressed her face against her breasts, felt the bump of her nipple against her cheek. In her imagination, Maladict pulled her up and kissed her with soft woman lips, and took her hand again, guided it inside her trousers, into wet warm slickness, and she moved her hand, finger sliding over the cleft over and over again, and Maladict hissed, clenched, bucked...

Polly got up quickly, just one thought shy of going overboard. There would be no peace for her tonight, not unless... Her decision made with the recklessness of the exhausted, she struggled up and walked away quickly, if a little unsteadily, towards the dark copse of trees and bushes surrounding the camp. She thought she could feel Maladict's eyes at her back. She wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary, she told herself. Every soldier needs to relieve himself, or herself, as the case may be. They didn't have to know what sort of relief it was.

Sufficiently far away, and concealed, she undid her trousers and slipped her hand in. She had had no idea how wet and gone she was, but she leaned up against a tree and bit her lip to keep from groaning as she moved her hand against her hips, grinding against herself. All the while, in her mind, the slickness under her hand was Maladict's. She brought the pleasure to peak like she had a hundred times before, gasping open-mouthed in the darkness, writhing against the bark.

When she returned, bark shavings and a leaf in her hair, Maladict was hanging upside down from a branch, and Shufti sat by the fire instead. 'You were gone a long time, Ozz,' she said. 'I was just about to come looking.'

'These things take time,' said Polly with the audacity of a young man, and lay down in her place. Maladict was swinging slightly in the breeze, almost directly above. Sleep was heavy on her now, the tingle of desire under it. Just before she fell into exhausted rest, she thought she saw the glint of glowing eyes in the darkness of Maladict's cape.


End file.
